


Nothing So Fragile

by mckays_girl



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Adult Themes, Angst, Drama, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-27
Updated: 2009-04-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 12:52:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10021520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mckays_girl/pseuds/mckays_girl
Summary: "You ready for tomorrow's mission, Rodney?" John asked, stealing a fry off his tray.Rodney flapped a hand at him. "What's there to be ready for? We change a few crystals, reroute the power to the alternate energy source and ta-da – water. What could possibly go wrong?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my betas: spes_abrin & hugglewolf. This was originally a tagfic I started with girly_curl_3, back in November of 2006. When I found it in my WIP folder, it already had a few thousand words written. Many thanks to girly_curl_3: for poking at this story to help me keep the boys in character, and for all of the encouragement over these past three years. Thanks to lishel_fracrium and unimatrix0of1: for telling me it wasn't quite finished when they first read it and for always pushing me to be a better writer.

Rodney stared at his computer screen, impatiently tapping his pen on his knee, while waiting for the power fluctuation analysis to process. In his peripheral vision, he saw a hip leaning against the side of the desk. That hip could only be attached to Sheppard; he was the only one who leaned like that: suggestive and flirty.  
  
Rodney knew Sheppard did it on purpose. It was one of the ways they dealt with their mutual attraction. It wasn't something they ever talked about, but it was there regardless. Acting on it wasn't an option; too much was at stake: their careers, their friendship, their lives. So, they stuck to playful banter and innuendos; tried not to touch too much or too long. It seemed to work for them.  
  
Sheppard cleared his throat and Rodney heaved a put-upon sigh. "Is there something I can help you with, Colonel?" he asked without bothering to look up. It wasn't that he was particularly annoyed by Sheppard's interruption; it was just more entertaining to try and get a reaction out of him. When he finally did look up, Sheppard was pouting. That never got old.  
  
"I was just wondering if you were hungry," Sheppard grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
Rodney smirked. "Do you even have to ask? I'm so hungry I could eat one of those yak-like things we saw on PX7-632. Lead the way, Colonel."  
  
Sheppard rolled his eyes and stepped away from the desk. "After you," he said, gesturing toward the door.  
  
"You just want to get a better look at my ass," Rodney teased, sliding off his chair.  
  
Sheppard chuckled (Rodney swore it was his dirty old man laugh), and nudged Rodney's shoulder with his own. "Jerk," he said fondly.  
  
***  
  
It was late evening when John found Rodney in Jumper Three, propped on his hands and knees, headfirst under the front console. "Nice view," he quipped, eyeballing Rodney's ass as he fiddled with something in back of the jumper's DHD.  
  
"Yes, yes, the many charms of my ass are legendary. Now get down here and hold this, so I can get off my knees." Rodney's voice came from under the console, along with one broad hand waving a flashlight.  
  
"I thought you _liked_ being on your knees," John retorted, crouching down to take the flashlight from Rodney's outstretched hand.  
  
John could practically hear the eye-roll in Rodney's voice as he said, "Hmm. Yes, well, I think it's _your_ turn to be on your knees this time. Here." He pointed at a tangle of wires and crystals as he shuffled and rearranged himself so he was lying on his back. "Oh, much better," he sighed, scooting farther under the console. He grabbed John's wrist, redirecting the flashlight beam to better light his work area. "Hold it right there," he instructed, grabbing his tablet in one hand and a crystal in the other. "This will be so much easier with two hands."  
  
John was quiet for a few minutes, settling himself into a more comfortable position while trying to hold the flashlight steady, as he peered around the jumper. Tools and diagnostic equipment littered the front area around the lower half of Rodney's body, which was sticking out from under the console. He contented himself with staring at Rodney's crotch and watching the edge of his t-shirt ride up to reveal glimpses of the pale, solid plane of his belly.  
  
Muffled curses came from under the console. "Everything alright?" he asked, ducking his head to try and see what Rodney was doing.  
  
"Yes. Ow. Can you hand me that..." Rodney asked, trailing off as he stuck a hand out, pointing and snapping in John's general direction. John handed him a small screwdriver, his fingers lingering against Rodney's palm a bit too long. He barely stifled a groan when Rodney caught their fingertips together a moment as he pulled his hand away.  
  
"So, what are we working on?" John inquired, shifting uncomfortably.  
  
"What do you mean, 'what are we working on'?" Rodney said, voice still dulled by the console.  
  
"I mean, what are we working on?" he repeated.  
  
Rodney slid back out from under the console and gave John a quizzical look. "Didn't Zelenka tell you?"  
  
"Zelenka?" John asked, scrunching up his eyebrows.  
  
"Yes, Zelenka. Scientist? Fuzzy hair, glasses, can't understand a word he says?" Rodney replied sarcastically  
  
John just gave him a raised eyebrow in return.  
  
"Zelenka didn't send you? I asked him to send somebody to help me with this. I thought that was you."  
  
"Oh. Uh, no. I, uh..." John started stupidly. He didn't know how to explain that he'd just wanted to see McKay, regardless of what he was doing, and had been seeking him out for the last half-hour. "I, uh, just thought I'd come say hi," he finished, giving Rodney a grin and a tilt of his head.  
  
Rodney smiled back. "Hmm. Well. In that case, let Zelenka know he doesn't need to send anyone, would you? And make yourself comfortable. We're gonna be here a while."  
  
***  
  
_He arched off the mattress, body writhing from the feather-light touch of fingers ghosting along the length of his erection. Heat radiated from the sweat-slicked body above him, as kisses fluttered across his stomach. Soft lips brushed the head of his cock and he threaded his hands into a shock of dark hair. "John," he breathed, as wet warmth engulfed him._  
  
Rodney opened his eyes in the darkened room; the only light from the glow of his laptop. He lifted his head and examined his surroundings. He was alone. "Damn it," Rodney muttered, letting his head drop back onto the pillow. Why did he always seem to wake up before John finished? Hard and frustrated, he shoved his boxers out of the way and grasped his erection firmly, stroking slowly as images from his dream flitted through his mind.  
  
It probably wasn't a good idea to be masturbating to fantasies about a co-worker, but John was incredibly hot and Rodney was only human. Rubbing his thumb just under the head, he thought about them earlier that evening, lying just inches apart on the jumper floor. They weren't quite touching, but Rodney could still feel the heat radiating from John's body. His motions sped up as he remembered the little sparks of pleasure he felt every time their hands brushed together. Relief came with the memory of John's half-stifled groan and wondering what it would take to hear it again.  
  
Grabbing a handful of tissues from the nightstand, Rodney wiped up most of the mess and glanced at the clock as he got out of bed. 0400. _I might as well get some work done_ , he thought as he walked into the bathroom.  
  
After hastily showering and dressing, Rodney headed to the mess hall for an early breakfast. John was already sitting at their usual table when Rodney slid into the seat across from him. He hadn't expected to see anybody here this early, apart from the Marines who drew the short straw on patrol assignment day. John was eating lazily, chin propped on one fist as he watched his fork chase lumps of powdered eggs around his plate. As John concentrated on his breakfast, Rodney took a minute to sneak a peek at him. It didn't seem to matter what time of day or night it was; Sheppard always looked roguishly charming, and this very early morning breakfast was no exception. He looked like he could've just stepped out of Rodney's dream, were it not for the toast crumbs at the corner of his mouth. Rodney resisted the urge to brush them away.  
  
"You're up early," Rodney noted, distracting himself with an oversized bite of muffin, swallowing thickly as John looked up from his tray.  
  
"Couldn't sleep. How 'bout you?"  
  
Rodney washed the muffin down with some coffee. "Hmm, yes. Sleep does seem to be elusive these days," he replied, smiling at John.  
  
John returned the smile. "So, what are your plans for today? Threatening your minions? Insulting the Marines?"  
  
Rodney nodded, "yeah, the usual," and scooped some eggs into his mouth. Deciding they were a little bland, even for his tastes, he reached for the salt. John happened to be grabbing for the salt as well and their hands brushed together. They looked up at each other for one moment, then another.  
  
A few more seconds went by before John ducked his head, grinning goofily, and pulled his hand away. "Sorry," he said awkwardly. "You can have it first."  
  
Rodney snatched the shaker, sprinkling salt onto his eggs before passing it over to John. He shoveled the rest of his food into his mouth and guzzled down his coffee. "Well," he said, standing with his tray in hand. "It's been fun, but some of us have actual work to do." John waved him off while chewing his toast. After dropping off his tray, Rodney passed by the table again on his way out the door. "Meet you here for lunch?"  
  
John sipped his coffee. "Sure," he agreed. "1200?"  
  
"See you then." Rodney stalked off to his lab, where he was sure someone was doing something wrong.  
  
***  
  
P75-329 was a boring planet. Rodney was absolutely sure of this because his scanner wasn't picking up any useful energy readings. It was hot and humid, making sunscreen drip from his forehead. He was walking side by side with Colonel Sheppard, complaining every step of the way. "Why are we here?" he whined, slapping at a bug near his neck. "There's nothing on this planet except vegetation."  
  
Rodney peered around the clearing near the gate, brandishing the scanner haphazardly and frowning at its lack of response. "See? Not a thing." At John's meaningful look, he gave a pained sigh. "Fine. Let's all hike through the jungle full of man-eating plants and prehistoric insects. Maybe we can catch malaria while we're here, too." He held up the scanner and wandered away from the gate, in the direction that looked most promising, stopping only to stare pointedly at John until he caught up.  
  
John glanced at the scanner in Rodney's hand as they walked. Rodney wasn't kidding – the scanner showed no interesting power readings in the vicinity. Glancing back at Ronon and Teyla on their six, John smiled to himself. It might be hot, but it wasn't unpleasant, present company included. He glanced sidelong at Rodney as he stopped to poke at an unusual plant. Completely absorbed in the scanner and the readings of their surroundings, he was totally unaware of John's lingering perusal.  
  
He'd never even admit it to himself, but John liked to watch Rodney at work. It was amazing to see the man dive into a puzzle, watch the wheels turning as he made connections and found solutions before anybody else even knew what was wrong. And when Rodney was really focused on something, he lost some of the sharp-edged, smug armor he wore against the world. John had covertly watched him enough times to see the edges soften as the gears clicked with the light of discovery, and a little of the real McKay shine through.  
  
He was pulled from his reverie when he realized that Rodney was saying something and waving the scanner in front of him. "...nothing but plants, for all the good that'll do us."  
  
"Well, Rodney," Sheppard drawled, "Dr. Beckett seems to think that the plants on this planet might contain useful medicinal properties. At least, according to the database they do."  
  
"Isn't this a job for the botanists, then? I mean, why couldn't we send Lorne's team? I'm too important to go traipsing around some jungle getting eaten by the local insects."  
  
"The deep space sensors picked up some Wraith activity in the area and Dr. Weir wanted us to check it out," Teyla reminded them.  
  
"Fine," Rodney huffed. "But when I have an allergic reaction after getting stung by these things," he swatted at the bugs, "and I'm convulsing on the ground, you're going to have to ask Conan over there to carry me to the gate."  
  
Ronon snickered. Ever since John had made him watch the movie, he started to treat the barb as a compliment. It was mostly just to fluster Rodney, who was gaping at Ronon like a fish.  
  
Sheppard rolled his eyes. "If anything happens to you, I'll carry you back personally. Deal?" He turned to face Rodney and flashed him his "trust me" smirk.  
  
The offer seemed to placate Rodney. "Oh, well, um," he stammered, "yes, that would be fine."  
  
"Good," John replied, settling his P-90 against his chest so he could peer through his binoculars. "I think you were right, though. There's nothing here." He tucked the binoculars into his vest and said, "Let's head back to the gate." The four of them turned and began walking in the opposite direction.  
  
"Of course I'm right," Rodney said smugly. "When have I ever been wrong?" John gave Rodney a piercing look, totally derailing his rant. "Except maybe that one time...." He trailed off as they stepped into the clearing. The gate had already been dialed, an established wormhole shining from within the Ancient ring. "What the hell?"  
  
A Wraith dart shot out of the gate, barreling down on the team's position. "Rodney! Look out!" John threw himself at the scientist, narrowly knocking him out of the way of the culling beam and landing on him on the damp ground. Teyla and Ronon raised their P-90s in the air, firing shots until the craft flew back through the gate. The wormhole cut off abruptly, leaving the gate free to dial.  
  
Even though they were safe, John remained on top of Rodney, mesmerized by bright blue eyes and wide, crooked lips. Time slowed as he was caught in that gaze, pressed together from head to toe. John breathed deeply, smelling sweat and fear and Rodney. He knew he should get up; the threat was gone, but the allure of touching that much, for so long was undeniably tempting. Adrenaline buzzed through John's body, making him feel a little reckless, so he pushed his hips forward slightly.  
  
Rodney gasped and stared up questioningly into John's eyes, feeling warm breath on his lips. "Um, C- colonel," he stuttered.  
  
"Dr. McKay? Colonel Sheppard? Are you alright?" Teyla reached out a hand, breaking the spell.  
  
John placed a hand on either side of Rodney, pushing himself up to his knees. He clasped Teyla's hand, letting her help him to his feet and extended a hand to Rodney, pulling him up with ease. He didn't think anyone noticed that his grip lasted a little too long. "Let's head home guys. Rodney, dial the gate."  
  
Because of the incident with the Wraith dart, the post-mission debriefing was frustratingly long, so John skipped the locker room and made it back to his quarters in record time. He dropped his thigh holster and vest on the floor, stripping out of his jacket and damp t-shirt. _God, that planet was hot_ , he reflected as he sat on his bed to untie his boots. He pried them off, along with his socks and tossed them into the corner of the room. Walking into the bathroom, he thought _on_ at the shower as he removed his pants and boxers.  
  
The water was warm when he stepped under it, washing away the sweat and grime of the mission. He was still half hard from being pressed against Rodney; heart still beating a little too fast. Thinking about the way Rodney felt underneath him – warm and alive, the spicy-sweet smell of his skin – made John wrap his hand around his cock. He stroked slowly, savoring the memories of Rodney pinned to the ground beneath him. Bracing his free hand on the wall, John let his head drop between his shoulders, the water cascading over the slope of his back while his hand slid up and down his shaft. He increased the pace, tension building, body rigid, and then sweet release spurting over his fist before being rinsed away.  
  
***  
  
John was only mildly upset when he heard that Rodney had decided to give it another try with Katie. He certainly wasn't jealous. That was his story and he was sticking to it.  
  
Things were a little awkward between them since the incident on P75-329. They weren't hanging out as often, certainly not alone. John chalked it up to Rodney getting caught up in the excitement of a new relationship. Still, he missed Rodney's company and wondered what he could do to get things back to normal.  
  
As John entered the mess, he caught Rodney's eye. Rodney was up and out of his seat like a jackrabbit with a, "no time to talk, Colonel; places to go people to see," as he went bustling past. Caught in the whirlwind, John spun on his heels and rushed to keep pace, even as Rodney seemed determined to avoid him.  
  
Eventually, Rodney stopped short and glowered at John. "Yes, yes, what is it?" he snapped. "As you can see, I have someplace I need to be."  
  
John straightened out of his natural slouch, using his extra inch of height to try and intimidate Rodney. "Yeah," he replied indignantly, hands settling on his hips so they didn't reach out and choke the arrogant bastard. "I was wondering when you became such an asshole." John threw in a sarcastic smile for good measure.  
  
"Excuse me," Rodney sputtered. "The fate of the galaxy could very well be resting on one of the many projects I am working on and _this_ is how you waste my time." He stormed off leaving John to blink in confusion as to what just happened.  
  
After a moment of indecision, John jogged to catch up to Rodney. "Rodney, wait. Please."  
  
Rodney stopped.  
  
He placed a tentative hand on Rodney's shoulder and squeezed.  
  
Rodney turned around. He looked weary.  
  
John searched Rodney's eyes, hoping to find answers to questions he couldn't phrase. "Are you mad at me?" he finally asked.  
  
Rodney's shoulders slumped a little and his eyes lost some of the harsh glare he armored himself with. "No," he answered. "No, why would you think that?"  
  
"Then why are we fighting?"  
  
"We are not fighting."  
  
"Then why have I only seen you in meetings and leaving the mess hall for the past two weeks?" John challenged.  
  
"I've just been extremely busy lately, that's all," Rodney reassured him.  
  
John wasn't reassured. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring intently as though his gaze could pierce Rodney's skull and see right into his brain.  
  
"Really," Rodney said. "I am not mad at you." He paused for a moment. "How about you come over to my place tonight for chess, okay?"  
  
John relaxed a bit, mollified by Rodney's invitation. "Yeah," he said. "That sounds like fun."  
  
It was easy after that to slip back into the same routine – missions, team movie nights, chess games. They hung out together once or twice a week, ate meals together; everything was back to normal. It wasn't long before the suggestive banter and not-so-casual touches emerged again, but they kept it to that. They never crossed the line and they were okay with it. It worked for them. At least, that was what they told themselves.  
  
***  
  
"I swear it was this big," Sheppard was saying to Carson, his hands spread about two feet apart, as Rodney joined them for lunch.  
  
"Bragging about your sexual prowess again, Colonel?" Rodney mocked.  
  
"You didn't seem to be complaining last night," John retorted, with a mischievous grin.  
  
Rodney snorted. "In your dreams," he replied as he stuffed a fry into his mouth. When he looked up, John caught his eye and gave him a wink.  
  
"Now, lads," Carson admonished. "Try to behave yer'selves. Some of us are trying to eat here."  
  
John laughed and Rodney elbowed Carson.  
  
"You ready for tomorrow's mission, Rodney?" John asked, stealing a fry off his tray.  
  
Rodney flapped a hand at him. "What's there to be ready for? We change a few crystals, reroute the power to the alternate energy source and ta-da – water. What could possibly go wrong?"  
  
***  
  
The stargate on PX7-965 was located on a small island that the natives called Dysonia. It was mainly a fishing community, with limited farming because of the lack of fresh water. There was evidence that the Alterans had once used this island as an outpost, as the abundance of ancient technology alluded to. Currently, Rodney and a team of scientists were fixing the desalination tanks, getting them back online. In exchange, the Dysonians had promised a portion of the crops yielded from their next harvest. They were excited at the prospect of water for drinking and irrigation.  
  
Rodney was bent over a console, replacing burnt out crystals. John watched; his P-90 slung loosely against his chest. His eyes flickered over Rodney's body, admiring the broad shoulders and well-defined arms. The scientist turned, catching John's eyes and grinning goofily for a moment before slipping back into snark mode.  
  
"Zelenka," he snapped, stalking over to the Czech. "Are you done yet?"  
  
"Rodney, I am scientist, not miracle worker. I need more time to complete the repairs."  
  
"Fine," Rodney huffed. "I'm going to check out these energy readings while you finish up."  
  
Radek made a shooing motion. "Yes, go. Maybe I can work faster without you doing so much talking."  
  
Rodney scowled and stormed off, pulling the scanner from his vest. John's eyes tracked his movements and he was about to follow when he felt a warm hand on his elbow. He spun around to see Yenene, the daughter of the tribal chief, smiling at him, her blonde hair shimmering in the sunlight.  
  
"Hello, Colonel. Are you enjoying your stay in our village?"  
  
John smiled back. "Yeah. You must enjoy living by the ocean. I bet the surfing is great." He ran a hand through his hair.  
  
"Surfing?" She looked at him quizzically. "I do not know of this surfing."  
  
John sat with her on a nearby bench and explained, in detail, all the intricacies of surfing.  
  
***  
  
Rodney followed the energy signal to a small white building. The structure was a cerulean blue and made of metal similar to the walls of Atlantis, contrasting sharply from the mud and stick huts in the rest of the village. He noticed a panel by the door and pressed his hand against it. The door slid open smoothly, revealing what looked like a lab when he stepped inside. Glancing around at the tables and stools, Rodney saw several devices abandoned on the workbench in the middle of the room. He picked up an object about the size of a toaster, turning it in his hands, examining the reflective surface. The gadget didn't seem to be operational, so Rodney placed it back on the table and continued to sort through the other artifacts. Engrossed in his work, he was unaware of the passage of time.  
  
***  
  
John checked his watch again. The sun was setting and Rodney still hadn't returned. He was getting a little concerned. John was also beginning to feel uncomfortable, sliding to the end of the bench as Yenene continued to inch closer. Her thigh brushed his and he jumped up from his seat. She was studying him curiously, a tight grin plastered across her face. "I, uh . . .," he stammered, looking around for his teammates. "I need to, ah, help with the desalination tanks," he lied. He tapped his headset. "Rodney?" He waited a moment, but got no answer. "Rodney, this is Sheppard. Please respond." Worried, John headed over to where Teyla was sitting with Minesh, the tribal chief, while Ronon leaned under the shade of a nearby tree. "Have you guys seen Rodney?" he asked, nervously.  
  
Teyla glanced up at him, surprised. "I thought he was still working with the other scientists. Do you think that something is wrong, Colonel?"  
  
"I don't know," he replied. "I saw him walk off, but I assumed he was going to the jumper to get some tools. He's not answering his comm, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything bad. I'm gonna go talk to Dr. Zelenka."  
  
"Shall I go with you?"  
  
"No. You and Ronon stay here. Contact me if he comes back." John marched over to the desalination tanks, where Zelenka was typing on his laptop and muttering in Czech. "Hey, Dr. Z," he said. "Have you seen Rodney lately?"  
  
"I have been trying to reach him for a few minutes. He is not responding to his radio. We are ready for him to initialize the desalination program."  
  
"Do you know where he went?" John asked, trying not to sound impatient.  
  
"He said something about checking some energy readings," Radek answered. "He went over in that direction," he said, waving his hand vaguely west. "I am sure he is fine; just absorbed in research."  
  
"Thanks." John took the life-signs detector out of his vest pocket. Gripping his P-90, he tracked a lone dot on the screen, walking swiftly in the direction Zelenka had indicated until he approached a strange building that was obviously not made by the villagers. Tucking the scanner away, he placed his palm on the panel, opening the door. "Rodney?" he called into the room. "Ya in here, buddy?" As John stepped inside, he saw Rodney grab the edge of the counter before collapsing to the ground. He rushed to his friend's side and shook his shoulder. "Rodney, are you alright? Come on, talk to me!" Tapping his headset to call for help, John only got static. "Shit," he cursed.  
  
Meda, Minesh's wife and the tribe's healer, rushed into the building upon hearing John's frantic voice. She stared in awe, examining the strange room, until she saw Colonel Sheppard crouched over Dr. McKay's still form. He leaned in, his ear near Dr. McKay's mouth as his hand caressed a cheek. "What happened?" she asked, startling the soldier.  
  
John jerked his head up, but relaxed upon seeing the small woman. "I'm not sure," he told her. "He just fainted."  
  
Meda reached into her medicine bag and brought forth a purple flower, waving it under Rodney's nose. He opened his eyes and sat up suddenly, grimacing in pain while his hand came up to his forehead.  
  
"Ow," Rodney complained, trying to stand.  
  
John steadied him, his hand at the small of Rodney's back. "What happened? Are you okay?" He helped Rodney to his feet.  
  
Rodney held onto John for support. "I think I passed out for a minute. It must be my hypoglycemia acting up. I haven't eaten anything since breakfast and I've been working in the hot sun all day."  
  
John reached into his jacket and fished out a power bar. "Eat this for now," he said, shoving the bar into Rodney's shaky hands. "Zelenka's ready for you to initialize the program for the desalination system. Afterwards, we'll get you some dinner." John turned to Meda. "Thanks for your help."  
  
"Yes, thank you," Rodney echoed.  
  
"You are quite welcome. It was the least I could do considering all you are doing for my people, Dr. McKay." She studied them, aware of how they didn't move away from each other, even though the scientist seemed stable on his feet.  
  
***  
  
Rodney spent a few minutes checking Zelenka's work. "Good job," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Now, let's fire this baby up." He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, typed a few keystrokes, hit the enter key, and the machine roared to life. Rodney smiled and turned to the villagers. "By tomorrow morning, you should have enough clean water for everyone to drink and by the end of the week the tanks will have stored enough to run through the irrigation systems."  
  
The crowd cheered and everyone bowed down on the ground. Minesh stood and strode over to Rodney, clapping him on the shoulder. "Tonight," he announced as the rest of the natives rose from the floor, "we drink and feast in Dr. McKay's honor."  
  
"That's really not necessary," Rodney protested, unconvincingly.  
  
"Nonsense," Minesh laughed jovially. "You have saved our village and will forever be remembered. Come." He escorted the team to some tables filled with platters of food. "Let us all celebrate."  
  
"Well," Rodney said loftily, "I did manage to single-handedly bring you out of the Stone Age."  
  
Radek cleared his throat and glared.  
  
"Okay," Rodney conceded. "You weren't completely useless."  
  
Radek threw up his hands and stormed off, cursing in Czech.  
  
"Rodney," Teyla admonished. "I do not understand why you constantly ridicule Dr. Zelenka."  
  
Rodney grinned smugly. "I have to keep him in line somehow. We don't want his ego getting the best of him."  
  
Teyla shook her head and sighed.  
  
Distracting Rodney from the possibility of insulting someone else, John slung an arm around his shoulders. "Come on, buddy. Let's get you something to eat."  
  
"Yes," Rodney agreed. "Just nothing with citrus; I'm terribly allergic."  
  
John, Ronon and Teyla rolled their eyes in unison.  
  
***  
  
Yenene sighed and sat down where her mother was re-filling pitchers of wine. She leaned with her elbows propped on the table, hands supporting her chin, and pouted.  
  
"What is troubling you, my dear?" Meda asked.  
  
"Colonel Sheppard will not even spare me a glance," she complained.  
  
"That is because his heart belongs to another." She jerked her head in the direction of Sheppard, where he sat talking with McKay. "Look how they act around each other." The two women observed Sheppard lean in and whisper something in McKay's ear. The scientist chuckled and pointed, his hand resting on the soldier's forearm.  
  
"Oh," Yenene exclaimed, looking disappointed. "I did not know that they were mated."  
  
"I do not think they are together. I sense that something is causing the Colonel to hold back for some reason," the wise-woman replied.  
  
Yenene's expression brightened. "Maybe there is something we can do to help, since Dr. McKay has done so much for us."  
  
"What did you have in mind?" her mother asked.  
  
"Do you have any dried Arabela flowers in your medicine bag?"  
  
"Ah, an aphrodisiac." The older woman raised an eyebrow at her daughter.  
  
"Well," Yenene said, smiling mischievously, "they _are_ sharing a room tonight. Perhaps this is just the thing they need to help them reach the next step."  
  
"They do seem to care a great deal for each other," Meda noted, noticing how the pair sat pressed together from shoulder to knee. "I am just not sure how I feel about interfering with the lives of our guests."  
  
"It will be fine, mother. Just imagine how happy they will be." Yenene rummaged through her mother's bag and pulled out a small leather pouch painted with little yellow dots. She poured a heaping scoopful of the finely ground powder into a cup, filled it with wine and swirled the liquid around to help dissolve the sediment. Yenene paused for a moment and then decisively added a second scoopful. _A little extra certainly could not hurt_ , she thought. Strolling over to where the two men sat, she handed the beverage to Colonel Sheppard. "Have some more wine, Colonel."  
  
"Thank you," he said and smiled beatifically at her. He had already drunk three glasses and was pleasantly buzzed. Rodney laughed as the young blonde pranced away to dance with one of the scientists. "What?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.  
  
"I think someone has a crush on you, Colonel." Rodney was slightly tipsy himself, chuckling as he spoke.  
  
"Nah, she's just trying to be nice."  
  
"She's trying to get into your pants."  
  
John drained his drink and grinned at Rodney. "I guess." He shrugged.  
  
As the evening continued, John began to feel light-headed. He stood to go into the woods to relieve himself, but stumbled as he took a step. Rodney was at his side instantly, supporting his weight.  
  
"Whoa there. I think you had a little too much to drink."  
  
"Is'kay," John slurred. "M' fine."  
  
Teyla and Ronon wandered over to where they were standing. "What's wrong with him?" Ronon asked, his lips quirking into an amused grin.  
  
"Our fearless leader has gotten himself plastered," Rodney announced. At their puzzled looks he clarified, "He's drunk."  
  
"Is there anything we can do to assist you?" Teyla offered.  
  
"Nah. We'll be okay. I'll just escort Colonel Can't-Hold-His-Liquor to his quarters and keep an eye on him. You two enjoy yourselves and we'll meet you for breakfast in the morning."  
  
"Good night," Teyla said with a nod.  
  
"Night," Ronon rumbled.  
  
John watched the exchange between his teammates, swaying against Rodney and grinning goofily the entire time. He waved as Teyla and Ronon left to rejoin the feast. "Need to pee," he informed Rodney as they headed toward their hut.  
  
"Oh, for crying out loud," Rodney grumbled. He dragged Sheppard into the woods and turned his back. "Hurry up."  
  
When he was done, they hiked across the village to the hut that had been assigned to them. John plopped down on the bed, happy to be off his wobbly feet. His mind was fuzzy from the alcohol, but as Rodney squatted between his legs to remove his boots, his thoughts shifted. "You sure do have a purdy mouth, Rod-neee," he drawled, his nasally accent thicker than usual as he slurred the words.  
  
Rodney snorted. "Very funny, Colonel." His head jolted up as John's hand cupped his chin and John's thumb traced across his bottom lip. "John?" John's eyes were dark pools of arousal as he leaned forward and mashed their lips together. Rodney wrenched away and stood up to pace the room. "You know we can't."  
  
John frowned, aggravated by the rejection. "Why not, Rodney? We've both wanted this for a long time."  
  
Rodney stopped mid-stride and stared at John incredulously. "I can't believe you. You need me to list the reasons? Fine! First," he held out his hand and ticked off one finger, "and most importantly, is that you're drunk. You're my best friend and I would never take advantage of you in this state. Second, it wouldn't be fair to Katie no matter how much I wanted to do this."  
  
"So, you admit that you want this?" John interrupted, standing from the bed and crossing the room with a sudden speed and stability that unnerved Rodney.  
  
"Of course I, um, want this," Rodney stammered, retreating as John advanced. "But, that's not the point. The point is . . ."  
  
Rodney never got the chance to complete his sentence because John had backed him into the wall, kisses fierce and insistent. "John, stop." Rodney tried to push John away, but even in his drunken state, he was still stronger. "John, I'm asking you to stop. Please stop." Rodney reached for his radio, but John pinned his wrists above his head with one hand. He felt the fingers of John's free hand trail lightly up his neck and trace the shell of his ear.  
  
"Shhh," John soothed, removing Rodney's headset and tossing it over his shoulder.  
  
With only one hand holding him, Rodney was able to get the leverage to force John away, causing him to stumble and land on his backside. He never saw John look as furious as he did when he scrambled back up to his feet. Rodney panicked and reached for his 9mm, drawing it from the hostler, but it was too late; John was on him again, slamming him into the wall. His head snapped back and hit the hard surface, making his ears ring. John wrapped his hand tightly around Rodney's wrist, squeezing until Rodney's fingers went numb and the gun clattered to the floor. He watched helplessly as it skittered across the room when John kicked it.  
  
Rodney felt dizzy, a combination of alcohol and a minor concussion. He shoved ineffectually at John, all the while chanting the mantra, "John, John, please stop." John unbuckled Rodney's belt and unzipped him, tugging until Rodney's pants and boxers pooled around his knees. He was spun around abruptly, face mashed against the rough wood of the hut.  
  
John leaned in, breathing harshly in Rodney's ear while he fumbled with his own pants. "I know you want this, Rodney. You've been teasing me for months." He drew himself out through the fly of his boxers, not bothering to get undressed, and kicked Rodney's feet apart.  
  
"John," Rodney whimpered. John ignored him, seeming to run on instinct, blocking out everything but the primal urge for sex. The rough fabric of John's pants chafed Rodney's skin as their bodies pressed together. John's erection rubbed between his cheeks, and his whole body tensed in apprehension. When he made another attempt to free himself, John twisted his arm behind his back, pinning him in place.  
  
Two fingers were shoved roughly up Rodney's ass, scissoring and stretching. He cried out and tried to pull away, only to have his arm pushed further up his back. As quickly as the fingers were thrust in, they were yanked out. Rodney heard John spit and then felt the blunt tip of John's cock pressing at his entrance. As John forced himself inside, driving past the tight ring of muscles, Rodney bit his lower lip to curtail the cry that welled up inside of him. The searing pain of being penetrated with little prep and only saliva for lubricant was nothing compared to the emotional agony Rodney felt. Tears streamed down his cheeks and a hiccupping sob managed to escape his pursed lips. Unwilling to take the chance of hurting John, and trying to minimize the damage to himself, Rodney submitted, bracing his free hand against the wall and relaxing his body as much as he could.  
  
John felt Rodney's tension ease, so he released the arm in favor of grabbing Rodney's hips. He set a punishing pace, pounding into Rodney's ass, racing toward completion. "Rodney," he moaned. "Oh god, Rodney, you're so tight. You feel so good."  
  
It was a strange amalgamation of pleasure and pain as John hammered into him. Rodney shivered each time John's cock rubbed against his prostate and cursed his body for reacting, watching in horror as he got hard. He didn't want to come from this; shouldn't come from this, but Rodney couldn't help his body's response. "No," he muttered, partly to John, but mostly to himself. "No, no, no."  
  
"Yes," John hissed, draping over Rodney's back to suck on his neck. "Yes, oh god, yes."  
  
Rodney nearly jumped out of his skin when his felt John's hand on his erection. Overloaded on fear and adrenaline, Rodney came instantly, semen spurting between John's fingers. "Oh god," he groaned, letting his head thump against the wall.  
  
Muscles clenched tightly around John's cock, rending a powerful orgasm from him. "Rodney," he groaned, fingers digging into Rodney's hips as he thrust one final time.  
  
John pulled out of Rodney's ass, causing him to hiss, and dragged Rodney into a greedy kiss, before hauling him across the room. Rodney stood silently, unnaturally still as he was undressed and herded into bed. John stripped hastily and slid under the covers, draping an arm possessively around Rodney's waist.  
  
Moonlight cascaded through the small window of the hut and across the bed where their skin touched. Rodney heard John's breath even out as he fell asleep, the rhythm sounding like the Atlantean sea. He stared at the ceiling for awhile thinking about leaving, but his body and mind were exhausted, and he eventually drifted to sleep.  
  
***  
  
Sleeping on his side was hell on his back, so Rodney tried to turn over, except his movement was impeded by a heavy arm slung around his waist. He could feel Sheppard's naked body pressed against him and soft breath tickling his neck. Rodney scrambled to sit up, grimacing when his head began throbbing like a freight train had barreled through it. He gingerly slipped out of Sheppard's grasp, wincing in pain as he stood and stretched. Every muscle in his body seemed to protest moving and his ass felt uncomfortably sore, used. _Fuck. Not a nightmare then_ , he thought grimly and began searching for his clothing and gear. Rodney dressed quietly, pausing a moment to examine the five distinct, finger-shaped bruises that encircled his wrist. After buckling his thigh holster, he studied John, who looked peaceful in sleep, face slack and body relaxed. Rodney resisted the urge to brush the hair away from John's eyes, frowning disdainfully at the idea. He needed to get out of there; needed to go someplace to gather his thoughts.  
  
The sun was just beginning to rise as Rodney made his way across the near-empty courtyard. He could see a few people milling about in the common area, cooking something in a pot. Feeling too sick to think about breakfast, Rodney wandered over to where the desalination tanks were running, checking the water levels with a few keystrokes.  
  
"I trust you had a pleasant evening, Dr. McKay?" a woman's voice inquired.  
  
Rodney jumped at the unexpected sound, turning to see Yenene smiling sweetly at him. "Excuse me?"  
  
"You know," she said with a giggle, "you and the Colonel, all alone together, sharing a room." Her smile grew broader and she looked at him expectantly.  
  
Rodney narrowed his eyes and he stood from his seat at the console. "What do you know about last night?" he challenged.  
  
"Oh, nothing," she replied innocently, fluttering her long blonde lashes.  
  
"Bullshit," he growled, stepping into her personal space. "You know something and you're going to tell me now, or so help me, I'm going to pull the plug on this tank and your people will die of dehydration before the week is through," he hissed.  
  
Yenene took a step back, intimidated by the angry scientist. "Oh please, no," she begged. "I only gave him some Arabela flower."  
  
"Arabela flower?" he said suspiciously.  
  
"It is an aphrodisiac. So that he would be more willing to ...," Yenene paused. At least she had the grace to blush.  
  
"So you could sleep with him?" Rodney accused, his voice climbing higher, causing some of the other villagers to look in their direction.  
  
"Certainly not! It was for you," Yenene explained. "I saw how the two of you looked at each other and thought I would help things along. I meant no harm."  
  
"Give me a sample," he demanded, holding out his right hand.  
  
Yenene's eyes widened upon seeing the dark bruises on his wrist, but she didn't dare ask the cause. "Yes, of course. I will get some from my mother's medicine bag," she said.  
  
They walked in silence to Minesh and Meda's hut. Rodney waited by the door while Yenene pushed the flap aside and crept in. She crouched on the floor next to her mother's supplies and rifled through the bag, searching for a packet of the yellow powder.  
  
"Yenene?" Meda lifted her head from the bed, squinting at the light filtering through the window.  
  
"It is okay mother, go back to sleep," Yenene whispered.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Dr. McKay requested some of the Arabela flower I gave to the Colonel last night." At her mother's grin she clarified, "It is not what you think. Something went wrong. He seems quite angry and there are bruises on his wrist."  
  
"Bruises you say?" Meda asked, furrowing her brow. "How much Arabela flower did you give Colonel Sheppard?"  
  
"Two scoops," Yenene confessed.  
  
"But that is twice the normal dosage."  
  
"I did not know that it would make him violent," Yenene said defensively.  
  
"We do not know that is what happened," Meda said, frowning. "I will speak with Dr. McKay."  
  
Meda dressed and exited the hut, approaching Dr. McKay where he waited, a deep scowl twisting his features into something ugly. "I am sorry if my daughter caused any trouble last night. You have my sincerest apologies."  
  
"You haven't the faintest idea of what you've done," Rodney hissed. "You had no right to interfere with our lives and you should just be thankful that Dr. Weir will be the one to decide how to handle this. I don't think I'd be very kind," he sneered.  
  
There were dark circles under his eyes and Meda could see the purple bruises peaking out from the sleeve of the jacket he wore, even though the day was already warm. Her heart sank at the implications. "Whatever happened last night," she counseled, "just know it was not his fault. My daughter was not as familiar with the herb as she thought and gave Colonel Sheppard twice the usual dosage."  
  
"Do you really think that makes things okay?" Rodney snapped. "Do you?"  
  
"No, of course not. I just thought ..."  
  
"Do me a favor," Rodney interrupted, "don't think. Just get me a sample and the dosing information."  
  
"Yes, Dr. McKay. It will be ready for your departure." Meda bowed her head in shame as Rodney stormed away.  
  
***  
  
John opened his eyes slowly, grimacing at the sunlight that aggravated the incessant pounding in his skull. His body felt numb and sluggish, like he had been shot by a Wraith stunner. After a few minutes of flexing his joints, he was able to move again. He rolled onto his side, pulled off the sheets and carefully swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. John shivered, and then looked down. _I'm naked. Why am I naked?_ he pondered. _And sticky?_  
  
John turned around cautiously, sighing gratefully when he discovered no one else in the bed with him. He stood on shaky legs and used his boxers to try and wipe himself clean. While he dressed, John noticed what looked like dried come on the front of his pants and scrubbed at it with a wetnap from his tac vest until it was less visible. _Shit_. Bracing for trouble, John struggled to remember who he slept with, but it was to no avail. He just hoped she didn't have an overprotective father.  
  
***  
  
John slid into the seat across from Teyla and Ronon, who were eating their breakfast in companionable silence. He pulled off his aviator glasses and tucked them into his vest before pouring himself a mug of tea. "Morning, guys. Where's Rodney?"  
  
Teyla looked up. "I have not yet seen Dr. McKay this morning," she replied, a frown tugging at her lips as she studied him. "You look unwell, John. Is everything alright?"  
  
"Yeah, you look like shit," Ronon added around a forkful of food.  
  
John stared at him. "Where did you learn that word? I'm going to have to think twice about letting you hang out with the Marines," he admonished.  
  
Ronon smirked and shoveled another forkful of fruit into his mouth.  
  
"I guess I drank more than I thought last night," John explained, "which reminds me, we may have a little situation on our hands."  
  
Teyla arched an eyebrow. "Define situation."  
  
John leaned forward so that only the two of them could hear him. "I don't exactly remember what happened last night," he whispered. "Just be on the lookout for angry fathers or boyfriends, if you catch my drift."  
  
"John, I think," Teyla began.  
  
John put up a hand to cut her off. "I don't want to talk about it. Let's just find Rodney and get out of here."  
  
A few minutes later Rodney stomped over to their table and threw a small envelope painted with yellow dots in front of John.  
  
"Okay," John said slowly.  
  
Rodney huffed, his nostrils flaring with barely contained anger. "You were drugged," he spat out.  
  
John's eyebrows reached his hairline. "What?"  
  
"That little psycho, Yenene, drugged your wine last night."  
  
"Jesus," John swore. "No wonder I feel like crap."  
  
"We should head back to Atlantis," Rodney suggested. "Have Carson take a look at you and that drug."  
  
"Thanks for looking out for me, buddy," John said. He stood and clapped a hand over Rodney's shoulder, squeezing affectionately. Rodney shrugged off John's touch and backed away. "Rodney?"  
  
"Dr. McKay, is there something wrong?" Teyla asked with audible concern.  
  
"Everything's fine," he snapped.  
  
"Well, McKay," John said. "I should at least thank you for last night."  
  
Rodney blanched, his eyes growing wide. Teyla caught his gaze, eyes narrowing as she scrutinized his reaction.  
  
"You really shouldn't have had to give up your room," John continued, oblivious to their interaction.  
  
"I gotta . . .," Rodney trailed off, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the desalination tanks. "I told Zelenka I would meet him," he told them, hastily retreating.  
  
As Rodney stormed off, Teyla placed her teacup on the table. "I believe Dr. McKay is not telling us something."  
  
"Ya think?" John quipped. "I'll talk to him when we get back to Atlantis."  
  
***  
  
John focused on Rodney the entire walk back to the gate. He may have gotten laid last night, but that didn't mean he couldn't take the time to appreciate Rodney's assets. He was only slightly disappointed by Rodney's lack of sarcastic commentary, but he seemed pretty grumpy earlier, so John let it go. When they reached the gate, Teyla began dialing while Rodney punched his code into the G.D.O. John was still daydreaming about Rodney's ass when he had a vision of himself, hands wrapped around padded hips as he pressed inside someone.  
  
"Colonel Sheppard, we are ready to go," Teyla said, looking at him expectantly. "John?"  
  
John looked up and blinked at her. "Oh, sorry," he replied sheepishly.  
  
***  
  
When John informed them that he had been drugged off-world, Elizabeth was pissed and Carson was on him like a vampire, drawing vial after vial of blood. As Carson labeled the last tube, John leaned over and whispered, "Hey, Doc, you may want to check for more than traces of the drug in my system."  
  
"What do you mean? What else would I need to look for?"  
  
John straightened up, rubbed the back of his neck and looked anywhere but at Carson as he casually said, "I don't know. Maybe alien STDs."  
  
"Excuse me, lad. Do you mean to tell me that ye had sexual intercourse while under the influence?" Carson hissed.  
  
"You don't have to get mad at me, Doc," John protested. "Look. I don't know what exactly happened. I can't remember a thing. But when I woke up, there was evidence."  
  
"What kind of evidence?" Carson asked suspiciously.  
  
John hopped off the exam table. "You know what," he said, "forget I mentioned it."  
  
"John, wait."  
  
John paused.  
  
"Ye don't need to feel ashamed of what happened to ye," Carson said gently.  
  
John narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Ye were drugged, lad. And someone took advantage of ye," he explained.  
  
It didn't take a genius to figure out what Carson was implying. "I'm fine," John said coolly.  
  
"Well, maybe ye should still make an appointment with Dr. Heightmeyer," Carson suggested.  
  
"I don't really think that's necessary," John argued.  
  
"It's yer choice, John."  
  
"You're not going to mention this to Dr. Weir, are you?"  
  
Carson shook his head. "This is a personal matter, so it's confidential."  
  
"See you at the briefing, Doc," John said as he left the infirmary.  
  
***  
  
Rodney sat on the exam table while Carson poked and prodded him. "What's the matter with ye today, Rodney?" Carson asked. "Ye haven't complained once since ye've walked in."  
  
Rodney made a sour face. "Oh," he sneered, "you're funny."  
  
Carson smiled. "There's the Rodney we know and love," he teased. "Now, please take off yer jacket, so I can get a blood sample." As Rodney shrugged out of his jacket, Carson noticed the bruising on his wrist. "What's this?" he asked, cradling Rodney's hand in his to examine the ring of black and blue markings.  
  
"It's nothing," Rodney snapped, snatching his hand away.  
  
"Don't be daft. It most certainly is something," Carson countered. "Yer hand is a bloody mess. What the hell happened?" he demanded.  
  
"I fell," Rodney lied.  
  
"Ye fell," Carson said flatly as he began to draw blood. He pulled the needle out of Rodney's arm and pressed a cotton ball to the tiny pinprick.  
  
Rodney slid off the table. "Listen, are we done here? I need to prepare for the debriefing and I'm sure someone screwed something up in the lab while I was gone."  
  
"Off with ye then," Carson sighed, exasperated.  
  
***  
  
The debriefing was routine, until Carson went over John's lab results. "This drug seemed to have elevated the Colonel's adrenaline and testosterone levels. They're slightly above normal now, because the drug is still breaking down in his system, but I would estimate that they were dangerously high last night," Carson explained. "My guess is that the alcohol depressed his system enough to prevent any damage."  
  
Rodney made a derisive sound, but kept his attention on his empty coffee mug.  
  
"You've been awfully quiet today, Rodney," Elizabeth noted. "Is there anything you'd like to add?"  
  
Rodney met her curious gaze. "Ah, no," he replied.  
  
"Okay," she said, her tone suggesting she didn't quite believe him. "If there's nothing else, then you're all dismissed."  
  
As Rodney exited the conference room, John caught up with him and grabbed him by the shoulder. Rodney stopped, his entire body going stiff as he hissed, "Get your hands off me," and spun around to face John.  
  
John furrowed his eyebrows, confused by Rodney's reaction. "I just wanted to thank you again for getting a sample of the Arabela flower."  
  
Rodney waved a hand dismissively. "It's nothing you wouldn't have done."  
  
"Well, I still appreciate it," John insisted. "See you at dinner?"  
  
"I have a lot of work to catch up on, so probably not."  
  
"Okay, well, see ya."  
  
The tension eased from Rodney's shoulders as John left. He continued on his way to the lab until he was intercepted by Teyla.  
  
"I need to speak with you, Rodney," she said urgently.  
  
Rodney sighed in frustration. "What is it now?"  
  
"I think it would be best if we were to have this conversation in private," Teyla suggested.  
  
"What could you possibly need to talk to me about in private?" Rodney demanded.  
  
"It is about last night," Teyla replied sternly.  
  
Rodney went as white as a sheet and grabbed Teyla by the elbow, leading her to an unoccupied room. "What do you know about last night?" he asked.  
  
Looking distressed, Teyla said, "You walked John back to his room last night."  
  
"So, what does that have to do with anything? He was drugged while we were at the party. How could I have prevented that?"  
  
"John said he was fairly certain he had intercourse last night," Teyla explained.  
  
Rodney looked shocked. "He told you that?" he asked incredulously.  
  
"In his own way, yes," Teyla answered. "He has no memory of what happened."  
  
"And, how do you suppose wasting my valuable time is going to help the situation?" Rodney said, regaining some of his bluster.  
  
Teyla's eyes narrowed, pinning Rodney with her glare. "Well, Rodney, at first I was disappointed in you for leaving John alone, when you promised to watch over him. But with the way you have been acting lately, I am not quite sure that is what happened."  
  
"What are you trying to say?"  
  
"You tell me, Rodney," Teyla said. "Eventually, John is going to remember, so you are better off being honest now."  
  
Rodney crowded in close to Teyla, meeting her glare defiantly. "Let's just hope for everyone's sake he never remembers," he snapped before storming out of the room, heading to his quarters instead of the labs. When he got there, he took a long, hot shower, washing away any evidence of the mission, of the sex, of the memory John's hands on him.  
  
***  
  
The door chimed unexpectedly as Rodney checked his email. "Who is it?" he called out, praying it wasn't Sheppard.  
  
"It's Katie."  
  
Rodney got up and answered the door. "Oh, hi. What are you doing here?"  
  
Katie smiled. "We have a date tonight, silly."  
  
"We do?"  
  
"Yes, and I figured you'd be working late, so I brought dinner." She held up a tray piled with food, so Rodney let her in, not one to refuse a good meal.  
  
After dinner, they sat quietly, side by side on Rodney's bed. "What's wrong, Rodney?" Katie asked, snuggling up against him.  
  
"Nothing," Rodney replied wearily. "I've just had a long day."  
  
"Oh," Katie said, not meeting his eyes. "I can leave if you'd like."  
  
Rodney had to hand it to Katie; at least she attempted to hide her disappointment in him, which was more than most people accomplished. With everything that had happened to him in the last twenty-four hours, Rodney was in no mood to put on a front, not even for her. Still, he felt guilty about the thought of sending Katie home, but he didn't feel close enough to confide in her. He needed to do something that didn't involve talking, something to quell his urge to babble his deepest, darkest secrets.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Rodney cupped Katie's chin in his palm, drawing her gaze to his own. "Katie," he whispered with uncharacteristic gentleness, looking into her wide blue eyes. He pressed his lips softly to hers and she melted against him. Rodney believed he owed this to Katie, this little bit of affection, when he knew he couldn't give her what she really wanted.  
  
Pressing her back against the bed, Rodney continued kissing Katie, fingers skimming under her shirt to caress the soft skin of her abdomen. He didn't really want this, but what could he do; he wanted to make her happy. Rodney frantically searched his mind for anything to help get him aroused and that proved to be a mistake. Images of the previous night with John assaulted him: John's mouth on him, the smell of John's sweat, John's breath in his ear, John's cock in his ass.  
  
Rodney broke the kiss and buried his face in Katie's neck, trying to replace the memories of John with the sweet smell of her perfume, the soft brush of her hair against his cheek, anything, _anything_ to make him forget. He kissed her again, rougher this time, his anger and shame pouring out of him.  
  
Rodney felt Katie's hands pushing forcefully against his chest and he wrenched away from her mouth, panting harshly. He stumbled back, collapsing into a nearby chair, and stared at Katie in horror. "I'm," he started, "I'm sorry, I..."  
  
Katie reached for him. "Rodney, what is it?"  
  
"I," Rodney tried again and shook his head. "I think we should call it a night."  
  
"Why won't you talk to me?" Katie pleaded.  
  
Rodney's gaze dropped to the floor and stayed there until he heard the solacing swish of his door sliding closed.  
  
***  
  
John jolted upright panting and sweating while his eyes adjusted to the darkness of his room. He couldn't quite remember the details of his dream, but there were brief flashes that remained as the fog of sleep cleared from his mind. The most vivid recollection was of a sense of dominance and the persistent repetition of the word "no".  
  
"I really need to lay off the late night coffee," he told himself as he caught his breath. John glanced at his watch. It was too early to get up, so he laid down again, hands behind his head, and tried not to think about the meaning of his dream.  
  
***  
  
It was still dark when Rodney woke from a fitful sleep. His dreams had been shadowy amalgams of everything from John hating him to John being sent back to Earth. Getting out of bed, Rodney moved sluggishly, getting himself showered and dressed for the day. He didn't feel like going to the labs, another indication that what happened with John was affecting him more than he expected. Why couldn't he just get over this already? Rodney knew that it wasn't John's fault; that he had been drugged and would never intentionally hurt him. It was confusing to have these conflicting feelings of protectiveness and revulsion.  
  
In addition to that, Rodney was dismayed by his thoughts of John while he was with Katie last night. The possibility of having to experience that repeatedly, of it happening every time he touched Katie, made his flesh crawl. He refused to put himself through that again. And since he wasn't planning on opening up to her anytime soon, there was no point in dragging things out. It wasn't fair to him or to Katie.  
  
***  
  
Gossip made its way around Atlantis like it did in a small town, so it was fairly early in the day when John's heard about Rodney and Katie's breakup. He knew he shouldn't be happy about it, but they really weren't a good match for each other. Rodney deserved someone better, someone who shared his hobbies and could match his intellect. Even so, John guessed he should seek Rodney out and give his condolences.  
  
He found Rodney in a small room across the hall from the main lab. "Hey, Rodney," John said, peering over Rodney's shoulder at the gadget he was working on. "Whatcha doin'?"  
  
Startled, Rodney dropped the device and it clattered on the workbench. He swung around to face John, looking terrified.  
  
John held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Whoa, sorry, buddy. I didn't mean to scare ya," he said. "I just came to say I heard about you and Katie. Are you okay?"  
  
Rodney took a deep breath. He could do this; he could talk to John. No problem. "I'm fine," he said, "but I'm really quite busy now, so if you'll excuse me, I need to go." Fleeing wasn't cowardly; it was stress management.  
  
John stared in bewilderment as Rodney departed, vowing he'd figure out what the hell was going on, as soon as he sorted out his own messed up head.  
  
***  
  
_Rodney's hands were pressed against the wall of the hut, his legs spread wide for John's pleasure.  
  
"Yes," John moaned, leaning in to kiss Rodney's neck. "Yes, oh god, yes."  
  
He wrapped a hand around Rodney's cock, stroking him until he came, warm and wet, between John's fingers. Muscles clenched tight around John's cock, and it felt incredible. He thrust once more, clutching at Rodney's hips as he came inside him._  
  
John jerked awake, picking his head up off his desk, and wiped away the line of drool that trailed across his paperwork. He was exhausted from lack of sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, his brain supplied him with new images of what might have happened on Dysonia. It was starting to stress him out. And what was worse was that now he was beginning to insinuate Rodney into those dreams. Maybe Dr. Beckett was right; maybe he should make an appointment with Dr. Heightmeyer.  
  
***  
  
Rodney stared at his hands, folded in his lap, as he sat on the overstuffed couch in Dr. Heightmeyer's office. In his head, he went over his carefully crafted speech, sorting out the details of his ordeal on Dysonia. The rustling of papers drew his attention up to where Dr. Heightmeyer was opening a folder on her desk.  
  
"What can I do for you today, Rodney?" she asked.  
  
Rodney opened his mouth, and then closed it again as everything he had wanted to say evaporated from his mind. "I, um," he started stupidly.  
  
Dr. Heightmeyer smiled encouragingly.  
  
"What do you do when you care about someone and something really bad happens between you?" Rodney finally said.  
  
"Well, that depends on the magnitude of the incident," Kate replied. "If this is about Katie, I would suggest inviting her in on a session so I can help mediate."  
  
"It's not Katie," Rodney snapped. He stood from the chair and began pacing. "It's a very close friend and now things are all screwed up and I don't know how to fix them. I don't even know if they can be fixed," he said, wringing his hands as he spoke rapidly.  
  
"Shh, Rodney, slow down," Kate soothed. "Take a deep breath and explain to me what happened."  
  
Rodney stopped and took several deep breaths, but that only made him feel dizzy, so he sat back down on the couch. "I'm, uh, really not sure how to describe it," he explained.  
  
"That's okay, Rodney. We can work up to that."  
  
"I guess," Rodney said.  
  
"Would you feel comfortable bringing this person in to try and talk to them," Kate inquired.  
  
Rodney jumped up from his seat again. "No," he shouted, and then repeated more quietly, "no."  
  
"You seem distressed, Rodney," Kate noted. "Are you sure you don't want to discuss what's upsetting you?"  
  
"I'm fine," Rodney lied, brushing off her concerns.  
  
Kate cocked an eyebrow.  
  
"Really, I'm fine," Rodney said again. "Same time next week?" His hand hovered near the doorknob.  
  
"I think it would be best for your well-being that you deal with this matter," Kate urged. She flipped a page on her calendar. "Come in again next Tuesday and we'll try to make some more progress. In the meantime, please at least make an attempt to relax, okay?"  
  
Rodney nodded and walked out the door, literally bumping into John in the process. "Ow," he said, rubbing his nose.  
  
"Oh, sorry," John apologized. "I guess I wasn't paying attention. I've been a little distracted lately."  
  
They locked eyes, helplessly caught in each other's gaze. John wanted to reach out and squeeze Rodney's shoulder, to do anything that would close the gap that had been steadily growing between them. His hand twitched and Rodney bolted like a startled colt, excuses readily falling from his lips. With a resigned sigh, John entered Dr. Heightmeyer's office.  
  
"Hello, John," she said as he sat down. "I appreciate you giving me permission to speak with Dr. Beckett on this matter. It helps to have a little background information."  
  
John shrugged. "It's not a big deal."  
  
Kate gave him a sympathetic smile. "It's perfectly natural to feel angry, John. I understand that you have to put on a façade to keep up appearances for your men, but you don't have to do that here."  
  
"I don't feel angry," John objected. "Why does everyone want me to feel angry?"  
  
"We don't want you to feel angry, John," Kate replied. "We just want you to understand that it's okay to feel that way."  
  
"Well, I don't," John grumbled.  
  
"You do understand that since you were drugged, any sex that you had was non-consensual," Kate explained.  
  
"I'm well aware of that," John said, shifting uncomfortably.  
  
"How does that make you feel?"  
  
John sighed. "Honestly, it really doesn't bother me all that much. I just want to remember what happened. That's the part that's pissing me off."  
  
"Did you ever consider the fact that part of you doesn't want to remember?" Kate suggested.  
  
"Why wouldn't I want to remember?"  
  
"Well, maybe the incident was more traumatic for you than you realize and your mind is protecting itself by suppressing the memory," she conjectured.  
  
"I'm sure that's not it," John argued. "Look, I just want to know what happened. I'm having what I think are flashbacks, but only bits and pieces, and everything's all mixed up."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"It just seems like I'm confusing what happened with other, ah, things," John explained, flushing slightly.  
  
"What kind of things, John?"  
  
The flush spread to the tips of John's ears. "Like I'm substituting someone I'm attracted to for, ya know."  
  
"You mean, someone that you fantasize about is becoming the person you slept with on Dysonia," Kate surmised.  
  
"Uh, yeah and it's really starting to freak me out," John confessed. "Is there anything I can do to help myself remember, so I can move past this?"  
  
"It's only been a few days, John. Give it some time," Kate advised.  
  
"Please," John begged. "I'll try anything. What about hypnosis?"  
  
"I'm hesitant to use hypnosis because I don't want to force the memories to the surface," Kate said. "But the next time you have a flashback, you can just relax and go with it, instead of trying to control it."  
  
"Yeah, okay," John agreed. "I'll give it a shot."  
  
"See you the same time next week?" Kate asked, hopeful.  
  
"I don't know. Maybe."  
  
***  
  
During dinner, John sat at the team's usual table, across from Ronon and Teyla. "Have you guys noticed that Rodney's been acting weird, lately?" he asked.  
  
Ronon arched an eyebrow and shot John an amused grin.  
  
John rolled his eyes. "I mean, even for him," he continued. "I know he's just broken up with Katie and all, but I can't shake the feeling that there's something else. He leaves every time I walk into a room and if I so much as touch him he acts like I have cooties."  
  
"What are cooties?" Ronon asked.  
  
"Cooties are...," John started. "Never mind. The point is, he acts like he can't stand to be near me."  
  
Teyla averted her eyes, biting her lip to avoid talking about the subject. She had her suspicions, but no proof to back them up. Mentioning anything to John now would complicate matters. It was best to let John figure this out on his own until she had some concrete evidence.  
  
When Rodney attempted to slip by unnoticed with his tray, Ronon leapt from his seat, reaching Rodney before he escaped from the mess hall. He grabbed Rodney by the shoulders and steered him toward their table, even as Rodney expounded on the many reasons why he was too busy to have dinner with them. Ronon nudged Rodney into the seat next to John and settled back in beside Teyla.  
  
"What's the big idea?" Rodney snapped.  
  
"You haven't been eating with us," Ronon answered tersely.  
  
"I have been extremely busy," Rodney complained. "Now, if you will excuse me."  
  
As Rodney started to get up, John put a hand on his forearm. "Stay, Rodney. Please." He wore his least intimidating expression, even adding the pouty lips that seemed to work on Elizabeth.  
  
Rodney looked up at John and then down at where John was holding him before wresting his arm free and storming out of the mess. Ronon, Teyla and John glanced at the untouched tray of food and then at each other.  
  
John started to get up, but Teyla placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Let me speak with him."  
  
"But," John started to argue.  
  
"Did you not say that Rodney has been acting distant towards you?" she asked.  
  
"Exactly," John said. "That's why I should go talk to him."  
  
Teyla arched an eyebrow. "What makes you think he will speak with you now?"  
  
Furrowing his eyebrows, John sighed. "I don't know what else to do."  
  
"Let me speak with him first. I might be able to get to the root of the problem."  
  
John jerked his head in the direction of the door. "Go," he said.  
  
***  
  
Teyla caught up to Rodney as he neared the transporter. "This must stop," she demanded, cornering him before he could evade her.  
  
"Stop?" Rodney squawked. "I wish it _would_ stop. I would do just about anything to make it stop." He was so upset, he was practically hyperventilating.  
  
Teyla ushered him into the transporter and pressed the button for the living quarters. When they arrived, she led Rodney to her room and guided him into a chair. Sitting across from him, Teyla took Rodney's hands in hers. "Rodney, let me help you."  
  
Rodney squeezed her hands. "I can't," he protested.  
  
"We are like family, Rodney. If you cannot talk to me, who can you talk to?"  
  
Rodney rolled his eyes. "What is this? A Lifetime movie?" he snapped.  
  
Ignoring the Earth reference, she asked, "What other options do you have?"  
  
Rodney's shoulders slumped. "Fine," he said. "But the details aren't pretty."  
  
"I am willing to listen to anything you have to say."  
  
"Something happened on PX7-965," he said, forlornly.  
  
"Yes, Rodney, I know," Teyla acknowledged. "The question is what exactly happened?"  
  
Rodney took a fortifying breath. "It was me," he confessed, "the person that John slept with that night." Meeting Teyla's gaze, he added hastily, "But it's not what you think."  
  
"Relax, Rodney. I believe you," she said.  
  
"I just thought, after the other day," Rodney trailed off.  
  
"I apologize for my harsh reaction. I let myself get carried away by my emotions," Teyla admitted. "Tell me what really happened."  
  
"It all happened so fast," Rodney recalled. "One minute, I was helping John get ready for bed, and the next . . ." Rodney paused, swallowing hard. "I couldn't stop him. He was too strong."  
  
Teyla stared at Rodney, astonished at how far off she was from the truth. "Are you saying that John forced himself on you?" It was hard to believe that someone she cared for so deeply could have done something so horrific.  
  
"It wasn't his fault," Rodney insisted. "He was drugged. You heard what Carson said."  
  
"Why did you keep silent? It is obvious that you are suffering."  
  
"I didn't want to jeopardize his career," he explained. "What am I supposed to do? John's my best friend. I mean, I was falling in love with him for Christ's sake, before those backwater aliens interfered." A warm, salty tear trickled down Rodney's cheek and he reached up to wipe it away, blinking rapidly to prevent the others that threatened to escape.  
  
Teyla gathered him up into her arms, rubbing comforting circles across his back. Rodney stayed like that; face nestled in the crook of her neck as she hushed him with soothing words. "It will be okay," she whispered and she almost made him believe it was true.  
  
***  
  
Breathing slowly through his nose, John tried to relax, like Dr. Heightmeyer had suggested. He meditated using techniques that Teyla taught him, what felt like a lifetime ago; when they were cut off from Earth that first year. Frustrated, John gave up after only an hour, instead turning to his golf magazines for relaxation. They didn't prove to be any more helpful, but at least they made him drowsy.  
  
John slept. He dreamt of fierce kisses, all lips and tongue and teeth, of tight heat and sweat-slicked skin. He dreamt of sex and violence, of protests and tears. He dreamt of Rodney.  
  
When John woke he was drenched with sweat and his heart was pounding in his chest from the terrible nightmare that he knew, _knew_ in his gut to be true. Memories came flooding back to him: _Rodney's hands braced against the wooden wall of the hut, his pants around his knees, begging John to stop, please stop._  
  
John lurched out of bed and dashed to the bathroom, only barely making it before he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He knelt on the cold, tile floor, clutching the rim of the seat, heaving until there was nothing left to give. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, John stood on shaky legs, stripped and dragged himself into the shower. He turned the water on as hot as he could stand it, and then some, ducking under the steaming spray to wash away the grime of vomit and self-loathing.  
  
Every sordid detail of that horrible night played through John's head like some kind of grotesque porno movie, with him as the star. "Oh my god," he said ruefully. "What did I do?" Slowly sliding down the wall, he sunk to the ground as the water continued to rain down on him. "Fuck," John cursed, slamming his hand down on the floor. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He cradled his face in his hands, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes in retaliation to the throbbing in his skull.  
  
When the water ran cold, John picked himself up off the floor and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel to roughly scrub his body dry. Dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, he paced around the room, muttering to himself. "What the hell am I gonna do now? God, no wonder Rodney flinches every time I touch him. I fucking raped him." He was yelling now, the harsh sound reverberating around the room. His hands were clenched into fists, leaving crescent shaped marks in his palms.  
  
John did the only thing he knew how. He ran. He ran until his legs were rubbery and his throat raw; ran until every muscle in his body throbbed and he was ready to collapse in exhaustion. Stopping on a balcony overlooking the west pier, John hunched over, hands pressed into his thighs as he gulped in lungfuls of air. When he could finally breathe again, when his heart finished thundering in his chest, John leaned over the railing, studying the reflection of the moonlight in the water. The tumultuous sea thrashed about, mirroring his mood.  
  
***  
  
Running never solved anything, but it allowed John time to think, to sort things out. The sun was barely visible above the horizon; soon the corridors would be bustling with soldiers and scientists. For now, John enjoyed the silence. He scratched at the dried sweat on his forehead as he headed back to his room for another shower. After that, he would find Rodney; although he still had no idea what he would say. What could he say?  
  
Lost in his thoughts, John didn't see Rodney walking down the hall until he crashed into him, sending his data pad skittering across the floor. Scooping up the tablet, John handed it back to Rodney, who grabbed it hesitantly. John rubbed the back of his neck and fidgeted nervously. "Listen, Rodney," he started.  
  
"I, uh, really can't talk right now, Colonel," Rodney stammered.  
  
John stepped closer and Rodney reflexively recoiled. He desperately thought of a way to explain to Rodney what was swirling around in his head. "I remembered," John finally blurted out, "everything."  
  
Rodney looked bewildered for a moment, and then his eyes widened.  
  
"And I'm sorry," John continued, not giving Rodney a chance to respond. "I'm really, really sorry. I'll understand if you want to bring me up on charges."  
  
Rodney's expression went from stupefied to irritated in a heartbeat. "What? Don't be an idiot," he scolded. "You were drugged. None of it was your fault."  
  
"It was still me!" John exclaimed.  
  
"I know," Rodney snapped. "I was there."  
  
John put his hands on his hips and glared at Rodney. "And when were you planning on telling me what happened?"  
  
"I wasn't," Rodney replied coldly.  
  
"Don't you think I had a right to know?" John asked, rage simmering just within his control. It made him furious to think that Rodney would have kept something this important from him.  
  
"What was I supposed to say?" Rodney said snidely. "By the way, Colonel, when you were hopped up on alien drugs last night you raped me?"  
  
"Yes! No! I don't know." All the anger seeped out of John. He felt like an ass for yelling at Rodney. "How do I fix this? Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."  
  
Rodney sighed. "Just give me some time, John."  
  
"I can do that," John agreed, feeling helpless as he watched Rodney go.  
  
***  
  
Time was a luxury they didn't have. Two days later, the team was scheduled to visit P54-716, in search of a ZPM that was rumored to be hidden there. The energy signal lead to a crumbling structure. It was ancient in design, even if the materials used were more primitive to, presumably, fit in with the locale.  
  
They found a small room toward the back of the building that looked promising. Teyla and Ronon guarded the doorway, while John followed Rodney inside. As they picked through the rubble, Rodney held the scanner up to a panel on the wall. Furrowing his eyebrows, he tucked the scanner back into his vest and pried the panel away to reveal a mess of wires and crystals.  
  
"Rodney," John said, "are you sure that's safe?"  
  
"I won't really know until I check it out, will I, Colonel?"  
  
Wary, John hovered close enough to Rodney to keep an eye on him, while still maintaining a respectful distance. He watched Rodney rearrange some crystals and then heard another panel slide open on the far right wall. The movement caused the column in the center of the room to shake, jarring some debris loose from the ceiling.  
  
John caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. "Rodney, move!" he yelled, a familiar over-protectiveness coiling in his stomach. Instinct drove John to push Rodney out of the way, to force him up against the nearest wall and shield him from the danger.  
  
Rodney was highly aware of the heat of Sheppard's body prickling along his spine, and the gun poking into his thigh, reminded him, alarmingly, of John's cock. When the dust settled, Rodney shoved Sheppard away shouting, "Get off, get off, get off, get off," his voice spiraling higher with each repetition.  
  
Sheppard matched Rodney's panic, frantically apologizing. "Sorry, sorry. Oh my god, I'm so sorry."  
  
"Reign it in," Ronon boomed, stepping into the room to survey the damage. They both stopped speaking, snapping their heads in the direction of his voice to stare in disbelief. "You're distracted and putting yourselves in danger," he cautioned. "Work it out, before somebody gets hurt."  
  
"Ronon," John said warningly.  
  
Ronon stared back imposingly, arms folded across his chest. With a stormy expression, Sheppard stalked off to the other side of the room, while Rodney pretended to be occupied with the newly opened panel.  
  
Teyla grabbed Ronon's wrist and dragged him back into the hallway. "Do not judge when do not understand what is going on," she said in a harsh whisper.  
  
Ronon glared at her defiantly. "I'm not as dumb as everyone thinks I am," he said, pulling his arm from her grip.  
  
Teyla opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Rodney's loud, "Well, this was a giant waste of my time."  
  
They poked their heads back into the room to see John frowning next to Rodney, who was packing up his gear. "Are you sure it's gone?" John asked.  
  
"Of course I'm sure," Rodney snapped. "Do you think I'd miss a ZedPM?"  
  
"All right, kids," John said with a sigh. "Let's head back to the jumper."  
  
With an irritated huff, Rodney shoved between Ronon and Teyla as he left the room. John gave a casual shrug, but Ronon could see the frustration written on his face, among other things. Teyla sighed wearily, filing in behind John, Ronon taking up the rear, as they left the building.  
  
An uncomfortable silence settled in the jumper on the trip home. Sheppard was completely focused on flying and McKay busied himself typing notes on his laptop, while Teyla snuck worried glances between them.  
  
Ronon ignored them, instead trying to figure out a solution to the problem. Even though he wasn't sure exactly what happened between McKay and Sheppard, he knew something did – something bad. He knew since that morning on Dysonia, from the set of McKay's jaw and his curt speech, so contrary from the rambling flow that usually fell from his lips. Ronon had noticed McKay's bloodshot eyes and the bruises on his wrist, but didn't mention anything. If McKay had something he wanted to share, he would have complained at length, whether you wanted to listen or not. And Sheppard could barely say the word feelings, let alone discuss them. Ronon didn't want to force the issue, unless it became a danger, and now it had.  
  
Though Teyla might think he was oblivious, Ronon had his suspicions; it wasn't hard to put the pieces together. He observed the way McKay avoided Sheppard's touch; saw his uneasy stance, when they were standing too close. When Sheppard's behavior changed, when he went from confused to repentant, it hurt to watch. Ronon was a man of little words, trusting his actions to speak for him. And right now, he wanted to storm through the gate to punish those who had harmed his friends.  
  
***  
  
The team trudged out of the jumper bay, disappointed and dusty. Since no ZPM was discovered, the debriefing was short and they shuffled off to the locker room. Rodney hurriedly put away his gear to rush off to the labs, while Teyla quickly changed into her workout clothes, heading off to meet someone at the gym, leaving John and Ronon alone.  
  
John slammed his locker door closed and lifted one foot onto the bench to re-tie his laces. Ronon plopped down next to him, and with one eyebrow arched, asked, "Is there something you want to say to me?"  
  
John's not-so-carefully-controlled demeanor broke. "Damnit, Ronon!" he growled.  
  
"You and McKay gotta figure this thing out," Ronon said.  
  
"It's complicated," John insisted.  
  
"Do you wanna talk about it?"  
  
John sighed and joined Ronon on the bench. "No," he said, mulishly.  
  
"Do you want me to shoot anyone?" Ronon offered, with a sly grin.  
  
John ducked his head and smiled. "I wish it were that easy."  
  
"Well, if you don't feel comfortable talking to me or Teyla, what about doc Heightmeyer?"  
  
John shrugged. "I guess."  
  
Ronon stood and put a hand on John's shoulder, squeezing affectionately. "You know I would do anything for you?"  
  
With his eyes downcast, John reached up, wrapping his hand around Ronon's wrist to squeeze back. "I know."  
  
"See you at dinner," Ronon said, not making it a question. He ruffled John's hair and left John alone with his thoughts.  
  
***  
  
Friday brought another mission; a trade negotiation with the people of P78-X37. While waiting in the gateroom for Elizabeth to send them off, Teyla studied John and Rodney, the way they walked on eggshells around each other, their sentences stilted and awkward. She ached for them, sorrowed by the knowledge of what could have been, what should be; wanted to scoop them up into her arms and squeeze them tight until the pain went away. But all she could do was watch, and wait, and hope.  
  
***  
  
The boots Rodney saw out of the corner of his eye were attached to the hip that was leaning against his desk. He glanced up to see Sheppard, fiddling with the inert personal shield emitter that Rodney used as a paperweight. The corners of his mouth tugged down in a frown and his forehead was lined with creases. Rodney tried to summon some bluster, some scathing commentary to keep the distance between them, but his chest ached with the need to reach out. "Is there something I can help you with?" he asked quietly.  
  
John looked up and Rodney could see him try to school his features, try to hide his emotions from seeping through the detached façade. "Can I talk to you?" he whispered. "Alone?"  
  
Rodney took a deep breath and nodded. Silently, they made their way to the closet that Rodney called an office. The door closed behind them with an ominous click and Rodney used every ounce of self control he had to ignore the impulse to shove past Sheppard and escape.  
  
John took a step back, giving Rodney as much space as possible in the tiny room, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Scuffing his toe on the floor, he avoided eye contact when he mumbled, "Would you be willing to see Dr. Heightmeyer with me?"  
  
Rodney had to strain to hear the whole question and he was in shock when he finally parsed the information. "Did you just ...?"  
  
John's head snapped up and he met Rodney's gaze, looking scared and unsure. "Look," he said, "I know I suck at this, this ..." He paused for a moment, his whole face contorting, until he blurted, "Feelings aren't quite my forte, alright?"  
  
Rodney couldn't help it; he smiled. "You can say that again."  
  
John rolled his eyes, but the desperation started to drain from his expression and was replaced with a look of hope. "All I know is that we're both miserable. Maybe it would help if we both, ya know, talk – to each other."  
  
Rodney considered the proposition. What did he have to lose? John was the person he talked to about almost everything. If he could get that back, salvage the friendship he valued the most, it would be worth any amount of stress or heartache. "Okay," he replied and was grateful to watch John's shoulders slump with relief.  
  
"Okay," John repeated and pointed behind him. "I'll just..." He stumbled over his feet while opening the door and with a rueful smile said, "See you Tuesday."  
  
Rodney nodded again as the door closed behind John. "Huh."  
  
***  
  
Fall meant only one thing on Atlantis for Rodney (besides the usual daily fear of certain death) – candy. The closer it got to Halloween and Thanksgiving, the more candy that floated around the labs, as the scientists requisitioned it on the Daedalus runs. Rodney plopped into his chair and placed his coffee next to the chocolate muffin that was already waiting on his desk. He peered suspiciously at the muffin, noting the use of M  & Ms for the face and candy corn for the spiky hair. Picking up the scrap of paper next to it, Rodney read 'see you tomorrow' in Sheppard's messy scrawl.  
  
***  
  
For the third time, in as many minutes, John wiped his damp palms against his pants. He stood up and began to pace nervously, waiting for Rodney to show up for their appointment.  
  
The door to Dr. Heightmeyer's office slid open at precisely 1400, just as the alarm on John's watch beeped. "Hello, John," she said. "Dr. McKay informed me you would be joining us for his session."  
  
"I, um, yeah," he replied, peering down the hallway to check for Rodney.  
  
"Why don't you come in and have a seat while we wait for him?" Kate suggested.  
  
"Okay," John agreed, with one last backward glance as the door closed behind him.  
  
Kate sat across from him and smiled her usual, calm smile as she opened her notebook. "Is there anything you'd like to discuss before Rodney arrives?" she asked.  
  
"I remembered who it was I slept with, back on Dysonia."  
  
"Oh?" Kate said with genuine interest.  
  
_Well, here goes nothing_ , John thought and swallowed around the lump in his throat. "It was Rodney," he admitted.  
  
There was a knock at the door and then Rodney popped in. "Sorry I'm late," he said, "but you wouldn't believe what some of these so-called scientists ..."  
  
John and Kate both gawked at him.  
  
"What?" Rodney asked. "I'm only a few minutes late." Glaring at John, he snapped, "You didn't think I would show, did you?" John turned away guiltily and Rodney re-focused his attention on Kate. "And what are you staring at?"  
  
Kate quickly concealed her surprise with a professional smile, and cleared her throat. "John was just starting to explain the situation."  
  
"Oh," Rodney said, annoyance deflating. "Yes, well."  
  
After Rodney stood frozen for a minute, Kate rose from her seat, guiding him to sit on the couch and John scooted over to make room. "Why don't you start at the beginning?" she said, in a tone more compassionate than John was used to. "Who'd like to go first?"  
  
Silence stretched across the room, both men fidgeting and focusing on the floor. After a minute, surprising even himself, Rodney said, "I'll go." He met John's awed stare with a shrug and a half-cocked smile, before turning back to Kate. "It all started with the damned wine."  
  
***  
  
It was their seventh time visiting the Aminia; fifth time invited to participate in their sacred trust ritual. John remembered that first time – the four of them standing awkwardly, hands clasped as they formed a circle; their heads bowed in meditation while the priests chanted in low murmurs. By the third time, John just used it as an excuse to hold Rodney's hand, feeling a vulnerable flutter in the pit of his stomach as their fingers entwined, warm and calloused.  
  
This time, as the ceremony began, John fidgeted nervously until Ronon clapped a hand on his shoulder, stepping in between him and Rodney. He smiled gratefully as Teyla moved to his left, her slender hand folding into his. The air was warm around them, sun beating down on their backs. Rodney joined the circle and linked hands with Ronon and Teyla; his eyes locked with John. A soft wind carried the sound of prayer to John's ears, but it wasn't until Teyla squeezed his hand that he was able pull his gaze away.  
  
***  
  
Epilogue:  
  
Four months had passed. Things weren't exactly back to normal, but John decided that normal was kind of over-rated, anyway. He still attended therapy sessions with Rodney, although less frequently with their hectic schedules, and things were progressing to a point where they were generally comfortable around each other. In fact, they had grown quite close through the process.  
  
As they sat on the couch in John's room, a careful inch separating them, John dipped his hand into the popcorn bowl, scooping up a handful, only to lose most of it when his fingers tangled with Rodney's. He looked up and Rodney was watching him, lips shiny with butter, and John couldn't move, couldn't breathe.  
  
"Quit hogging all the popcorn," Ronon complained, snagging the bowl from them.  
  
John blinked a few times and then grinned. He shoved at Ronon with his bare toes, where he lay sprawled out on John's floor. Teyla giggled, her infectious joy spreading amongst them until all that could be heard was John's braying chortle. When the laughter died down, John caught Rodney's gaze. He was still smiling; his cheeks flushed pink, looking carefree, like the man who let John push him off a balcony all those years ago. "Have dinner with me," John said in a rush of words.  
  
"What," Rodney asked, "like a date?"  
  
John shrugged.  
  
"I don't know," Rodney said uncertainly. "What would we do?"  
  
"What do people usually do on dates, Rodney? Talk, hang out? I just like spending time with you."  
  
"Let me think about it."  
  
"Fair enough."  
  
Rodney shifted closer, his knee resting on John's thigh and John let his arm drape across the back of the couch. It was a small start, but it seemed to work for them.

  
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This story archived at <http://www.wraithbait.com/viewstory.php?sid=14926>  



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